


Bucky, Blankets, and Braids

by madrefiero



Series: Boys, Braids, and Bondage [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Hair Braiding, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Multi, Nail Polish, Not Canon Compliant, Praise Kink, Pre-Relationship, Thor and Clint are already together, WinterHawk Bingo, natasha is like bucky's little sister, this fic is soft, thundercluck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 07:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21472456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madrefiero/pseuds/madrefiero
Summary: Bucky half expected Sam to show up on Steve's behalf, or maybe even Nat as a voice of reason. He knew after his last talk with Steve where he all but begged him to stop running to check on him for every little thing, that it wasn't him. He sure as hell wasn't expecting Thor to walk into his room. He peeked out from under his blanket, eyes a little too wide to look completely at ease."You can tell Steve I'm fine. And that sending someone to check on me is the same as actually checking on me."He pulled the blanket back over his head, listening for the tell-tale sound of boots leaving. Instead, they got closer, stopping right in front of the couch. He heard something small, glass, being set on the coffee table and looked out again."No, I did not come here because at Steve's behest. I overheard you ask Clint to show you how to paint Natasha's nails. I thought I might offer myself up for practice. Clint will be along once he finishes with her."
Relationships: Clint Barton/Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes & Clint Barton & Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Thor, James "Bucky" Barnes/Thor
Series: Boys, Braids, and Bondage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547791
Comments: 46
Kudos: 132
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo





	1. Winterhawk Bingo Square N1 - Thor Odinson

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was really never supposed to happen, but thanks to discussions about recovering Bucky braiding hair and painting nails, here it is. I'm so soft for recovering!Bucky and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Bucky sat quietly in the common room, watching his teammates interact. It seemed to come easily for most of them, well everyone besides Bruce, but Bruce didn't spend much time in the common areas. Bucky shoved his hands into the pocket on the oversized hoodie he'd found mixed in with his laundry, trying to remember how to be a person. It used to be easy for him too, but that was a lifetime ago, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be that guy again. 

Steve and Sam were playing a game of foosball, while Tony tinkered with something or other, making smart remarks at most everyone. Thor was beside Tony, managing to talk to him, watch the foosball game, and carry on a conversation with Clint and Natasha at the same time. Clint and Natasha were on one of the oversized couches, Natasha sprawled with her feet in Clint's lap while Clint was painting her toenails. Natasha looked more relaxed that normal, and Clint seemed more focused. 

He thought about what his therapist said during his last session, how he needed to reclaim his arm. She'd told him to find a way to use it in a way that helped others, not hurt them. To use it gently, in a way that was calming. It was forced upon him as a weapon, but he could choose to make it something else entirely. He only needed to make that choice. Bucky clenched and clenched his metal hand, a nervous tic he had when he was overthinking. He took a deep breath and walked over to the two assassins on the couch, watching for a few more seconds before he finally found his voice. 

"Could you teach me to do that?"

Both of them looked up at him, and he swore he heard Steve falter at the foosball table. The room had gone quiet and Bucky regretted opening his mouth. Now everyone was watching him, and he hated it. He couldn't deal with everyone handling him with kid gloves, treating him line an infant when he made even the smallest step toward being normal. Steve was grinning like the overbearing, encouraging, jackass he was, so Bucky bolted. He took the fastest route back to his room and locked the door behind him. 

"JARVIS, don't let Steve in here."

"Of course, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky curled up on his couch and wrapped his favorite blanket around his shoulders. Maybe if he was lucky the couch would swallow him whole and he'd never have to talk about it. This was why he didn't try very often, Steve almost always overreacted. When someone knocked on his door, he pulled the blanket over his head and groaned. 

"Sergeant Barnes, you asked me not to allow Captain Rogers to enter, but you said nothing about anyone else," JARVIS spoke matter-of-factly before Bucky heard his door open. 

"Barnes?"

Bucky half expected Sam to show up on Steve's behalf, or maybe even Nat as a voice of reason. He knew after his last talk with Steve where he all but begged him to stop running to check on him for every little thing, that it wasn't him. He sure as hell wasn't expecting Thor to walk into his room. He peeked out from under his blanket, eyes a little too wide to look completely at ease. 

"You can tell Steve I'm fine. And that sending someone to check on me is the same as actually checking on me."

He pulled the blanket back over his head, listening for the tell-tale sound of boots leaving. Instead, they got closer, stopping right in front of the couch. He heard something small, glass, being set on the coffee table and looked out again. 

"No, I did not come here because at Steve's behest. I overheard you ask Clint to show you how to paint Natasha's nails. I thought I might offer myself up for practice. Clint will be along once he finishes with her." 

Thor's voice was friendly but laced with quiet concern. If Bucky was confused before, he was more so now. Of all people, he wouldn't have imagined the God of Thunder showing up in his room, offering to let him paint his fingernails. It was weird enough that Bucky sat up and let the blanket fall down onto his shoulders. He looked up at Thor. He was bigger than Steve, taller even than Barton, and beautiful in an otherworldly way. He reached for the bottle of polish in the table and turned it over in his flesh hand. 

"You must not be picky about colors," Bucky laughed. He smiled a little when he spoke, holding the bottle filled with metallic hot pink paint. "Not that anyone would dare say anything about it."

"It is a lovely color. One fit for a prince, don't you agree, Barnes? I believe Clint normally shakes it before he starts."

"Bucky." Bucky hadn't felt exactly right since he fell from the train, but only his Ma called him James, and that had only ever been when he was in trouble. "Call me Bucky."

Bucky shook the bottle and scooted over on the couch to make room for Thor. He opened it and pulled the brush out, watching the the paint drip back down into the bottle. He made a face when he caught a whiff of the scent. Pretty as it was, it smelled terrible. He was just about to reach for Thor's hand when Clint skidded into his room on socked feet, narrowly avoiding crashing into the door. He did managed to knock his arm against the doorknob, swearing under his breath. 

"Aww, door, no." Clint sighed and rubbed the sore spot while he shuffled over to the couch. He sat on the floor between Bucky and Thor and the coffee table, holding up his own bottle. "Want me to show you what to do?" 

The grin he flashed was warmth and sunshine and Bucky wasn't sure what to make of it, but he nodded anyway. Clint shook the bottle of purple a couple of times, then opened it and dabbed the excess polish off on the edge of the bottle. He took Thor's hand and the two men exchanged a look Bucky wasn't sure he was meant to see, before Clint applied a thin coat of polish to the nail on Thor's pinky. He held it up for Bucky to see, smiling proudly. 

"Well that doesn't look so hard." 

Bucky mimicked what Clint did, holding the lid and brush in his metal hand. He took Thor's other hand and slowly began to paint the nail. His brows furrowed and his nose crinkled up, and Clint beamed watching him. He used too much polish though, and the extra dripped down the side of Thor's finger. 

"Shit, sorry. I'm no good." Bucky frowned and hurried to close the bottle. 

He didn't know why he decided to try this. He shouldn't have, but he did and he made a mess and Thor was going to be mad, especially if it got on his clothes. And if he was mad then Clint might be bad and before he knew it, he was in a spiral. He was breathing too fast, and his eyes had gone wild. Before he could get too deep inside his own head though, he had strong hands on him. Not squeezing or pushing or hurting, but holding. Grounding. Pulling him back into reality. 

"Bucky? Hey, there you are. You okay?" 

"Clint?" His voice was small, any shred of comfort or confidence gone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up."

Thor interjected then, his too-loud voice making Bucky jump. "Think nothing of it, my friend. It will off easily enough."

Clint recognized the way Bucky flinched when Thor's voice boomed in the small room. It was all too familiar to Clint, having lived it with his father. He knew with Bucky it was HYDRA who hurt him, but the effects were much the same. Clint moved slowly, giving Bucky time to see him and pull away if he wanted. Clint laid a gentle hand on his knee, more serious than he was ninety percent of the time. 

"Bucky, no one is mad at you. You're not in trouble, and no one is going to hurt you for making a mistake, especially not one this harmless. Not now and not ever again, I promise."

He meant it too. He wanted to find anyone who hurt Bucky and make them wish they'd never be found. Hell, he'd even tell Steve to get in line. As someone who'd survived an abusive environment, he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Bucky nodded and some of the tension left his body, and when Thor spoke next, he made a conscious effort to speak more softly.

"Perhaps you should try again. Think of it like training."

Thor's eyes crinkled around the sides when smiled, and gave an encouraging nod. Bucky looked at Clint who gave an encouraging nod, then back to Thor. He pulled his blanket back up onto his shoulders and passed the bottle of polish from one hand to the other. He opened the bottle again and took Thor's hand, making sure to get more of the extra liquid off the brush before he applied the paint. He brushed it slowly onto Thor's nail this time, his tongue sticking out just slightly as he concentrated. He didn't breathe until he finished and held Thor's hand up for Clint to inspect. 

"It's still not great." Bucky frowned. 

"It's way better than what I did to poor Nat when I first started. It looks great." Clint beamed while he painted another nail on the other hand and Thor nodded in agreement. 

"Aye, it is very good, far better than I could do."

"You really think it's okay?"

Bucky's shoulders relaxed even more at the simple praise, and the worried lines disappeared from his face. Bolstered by the positive feedback, he decided to finish the rest of the nails on the hand he'd started on. He was so focused on his task that he didn't notice the amused smiles Clint and Thor exchanged while they watched him. Soon enough, he'd completed the hand, and all five fingernails were bright pink. Satisfied with his work, he capped the bottle and set it down.

"You did so good, Bucky. Look how much Thor likes it." 

Bucky couldn't even help the smile that threatened to spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and he ducked his overheated face into the side of the couch while Thor admired his handiwork. He felt silly, using HYDRA's prized weapon to paint a silly pink color onto Thor's nails seemed like a nice "fuck you" to his former handlers. 

The next night after dinner Clint knocked on Bucky's door. When Bucky opened it Clint handed him two bottles of polish, one purple and one black. Bucky tilted his head as he took them, opening the door for Clint to come in. He looked out into the hallway for Thor, but Clint was alone. Bucky didn't mind being alone with Clint. Of all the Avengers, he was easiest to be around. He didn't try to force Bucky to talk or play video games, or anything else really. He was content to just hang out and take any conversation at Bucky's pace. 

"I thought you could do mine tonight if you want more practice." Clint gave him a disarming smile when he spoke.

"Yeah, okay. You couldn't decide which color?" 

Clint shrugged sheepishly and made himself at home on Bucky's couch. "I thought they would look good together."

Bucky sat down next to him, their knees knocking together when he did. He muttered a "sorry" under his breath and Clint frowned. He hated that Bucky felt the need to apologize even for incidental contact. He wondered how long it must have been since anyone other than Steve or HYDRA's goons made a point to touch him at all. And the latter wouldn't have been pleasant in the least. Clint patted his knee gently.

"It's fine, I promise. Remember what I said last night? No one here is going to be upset or hurt you for something like that."

Bucky took a deep breath to relax while he shook up each bottle of polish. He started with the purple, alternating the two colors as he did each hand. Clint couldn't help grinning at the way his face scrunched up in concentration, and it had to swallow down the chuckle that threatened to bubble up from his chest. Bucky held Clint's hand in his delicately while he worked, noting the calluses on his fingers from his bow strings. They were different that the calluses from a handgun, and before he knew it he was running his own fingertips over them. Then it was Clint's turn to give a shy sounding apology.

"Sorry, they're rough and weird. It's my bow."

"It's not bad, just different."

Bucky was a little fascinated, turning Clint's hand palm up and well as his own comparing the two. Clint's hands were bigger than Bucky's. Not as massive as Thor's, but still big. His fingers weren't as thick, but they were long, and Bucky had a moment of wondering what they might feel like against his skin. When his cheeks suddenly turned pink, he dropped Clint's hand suddenly, and turned his attention to screwing the lids back onto the bottles of nail polish. He felt like he'd suddenly made things weird or crossed a line even if Clint didn't seem bothered. He had seventy years of conditioning screaming in the back of his mind that he was one accidental touch away from being strapped down and having his brain turned into scrambled eggs

"Bucky, look at me."

There was a tone to Clint's voice that made Bucky want to listen to him, so he looked up at him still subconsciously waiting for some sort of punishment. Clint placed his hands on both sides of Bucky's face, holding his face steady. He had an indiscernible expression on his face, his brows knitted together. When he finally spoke again, his voice was firm and direct, almost commanding. 

"I want you to stop apologizing for existing. I want you to stop feeling guilting for wanting things. You're safe here. You're welcome and wanted here, okay?"

Bucky didn't understand why, but tears welled up in his eyes. He knew in theory that he was safe here. He knew Steve would fight anyone who wanted to hurt him, and yet that still wasn't enough. When Clint spoke to him like that though, it settled something deep in his gut. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat and blinked his unshed tears away. 

"Okay." He nodded and breathed in deeply, repeating the word. He meant it this time. "Okay."


	2. Winterhawk Bingo Square B1 - Long Haired Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know, Buck, and I understand what that's like." Clint pushed Bucky's hair out of his eyes and nodded at Thor, who immediately began running his hands through the long, brunet, locks. 
> 
> Bucky relaxed into the feeling of strong hands against his scalp and Clint's arms holding him against a broad chest. He melted into Clint and his warmth, Thor's hands settling into a comforting rhythm in his hair. Bucky wondered if he was braiding it again, secretly hoping he was. Eventually he was lulled back to sleep. The weight of the blanket, Clint, and Thor kept the nightmares at bay. It also served as fodder for an altogether different kind of dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anytime Bucky and Nat are talking to each other, they are speaking Russian. I don't speak Russian and I dont trust google translate, so I typed it in English.

After that night, Bucky was almost always with either Clint or Thor or both of them. Sometimes they sparred together and others they holed up in Bucky's room with Nat's nail polish stash. More often than not, they weren't doing anything at all. Bucky thought it was nice not to be alone, but he was also glad that he didn't have to pretend to be okay around them. He still had bad days. Sometimes the most random thing would trigger a flashback so intense he wasn't sure where he was when he came out of it. Through all of it, they were there with soft blankets and oversized hoodies to comfort him. 

On a particularly bad night, Bucky couldn't stop his flesh hand from shaking enough to hold a bottle of nail polish. Clint had packed it all away and carried it back to Natasha's room without another word about it. Meanwhile, Thor turned on Dog Cops and patted the spot next to him on the coach. Bucky sat beside him and pulled a blanket over himself. He was mentally exhausted and dozed off before Clint made it back to the room. He slumped over onto Thor's shoulder, letting out a soft snore. Thor shifted him so he looked more comfortable, his head resting in Thor's lap. 

Bucky's hair was overgrown and hung loose over the side of his face, and Thor couldn't resist braiding a few strands. It gave him something to do while he watched television and would keep the hair out of Bucky's eyes when he woke. Thor thought he looked so much younger when he slept, the worried lines around his eyes no longer present. He really was beautiful. By the time Clint got back Thor had dozed off as well, a lock of Bucky's hair still between his fingers. Clint wanted to take a picture to capture the moment, but he didn't know how Bucky felt about that, so he didn't. He did, however, take a spot on the couch on Bucky's other side, stealing only a little of the blanket before letting himself drift off as well.

Bucky woke up a couple hours later, warm and weighted down and cuddled comfortably between two massive blondes. He tried to control the rising panic in his chest. He couldn't believe that he'd let his guard down enough to fall asleep in a room that wasn't his. What bothered him the most was that even he didn't realize how comfortable he'd become with Clint and Thor until that moment. He untangled himself from the blanket and slipped out of the room, thankful that the two were sound sleepers. 

Back in his own room, Bucky went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he saw his reflection in the mirror, he ran his fingers over the delicate braids holding his hair out of his face. He leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look, a warm ache blooming in his chest when he saw just how intricate they were. He turned his head to look at the braids from different angles, loving the look and feel of them. He'd slept soundly while Thor did it, speaking to the level of trust he didn't know he had for the god. He tried not to overthink that, forcing himself to go to bed to get some sleep. Clint and Thor woke hours later, both disappointed that there was an empty space between them were Bucky had been. 

Bucky made himself scarce for the next week, making three appointments with his therapist instead of his normal one. He was scared of fucking this up, whatever it was. He was scared of being triggered and hurting his friends. Most of all, he was scared of the warm feelings that settled deep inside him when he was around Clint or Thor. When he was with both of them at the same time, the feeling was almost overwhelming. He was terrified that at some point they would be snatched away from him, just like anything and anyone he'd grown attached to over the years. Therapy was good for that though. He still had a hard time believing that he deserved to be happy, but he was trying. 

He planned to go down to movie night that night, but before he left his room, there was a light knock. Assuming it was Clint, Bucky opened it without asking JARVIS who it was. He was surprised when Natasha walked in, carrying the case of nail polish he was already familiar with. She handed it to him and walked over to his couch, then toed off her shoes and sat down. He stared for a minute, then closed the door and followed behind her. He knew from watching Clint what her favorite shade was, and took it from the case, pulling her feet into his lap. They didn't speak, and it wasn't until he had the first coat completely done that she broke the silence, speaking to him in Russian.

"Do you remember me? From before?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. He suspected it was at least partly to lower his guard, but there was an earnestness there as well.

Bucky looked at her, studying her face. She was older now, though she barely looked it. "I wasn't sure whether those memories were real or not, but I remember you, Natalia." He almost smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. "You were a tiny thing back then, no bigger than Becca was when I left."

She visibly relaxed then, like she'd half-expected him to say no, and wiggled her toes at him. He did smile then, and let out a quiet chuckle as he took the hint. He started working on the second coat of polish whiley the two of them conversed. It was strange and familiar all at the same time. Once upon a time, she'd been the only thing that kept him human. He saw something in her that reminded him of the little sister who he'd forgotten at the time.

"I was tiny, but I still knocked you on your ass a few times."

"Yeah, well you had a good trainer."

"You've gotten pretty good at this, James." The name sounded odd as it rolled off her tongue, and he wrinkled his nose at it. "I'm not calling you Bucky. You're a grown man." She laughed and inspected his work closer. "You're already better at it than Clint."

"That's because I know how mean you really are and I don't want you to slit my throat in my sleep if I mess up." 

They spent the rest of the time catching up, trading stories from when they were both in the Red Room. Some of the memories were good, others were less so, and he couldn't shake the feeling that their bonding time was doubling as an interrogation of sorts. He guessed he couldn't blame her. Clint was her best friend, and it made sense that she would want to make sure Bucky was safe. She hugged him when she left, and he thought maybe if she could find a place to fit here, so could he.

He went to bed in a better mood than he'd been in all week, and thought for once he might be able to sleep through the night. He may have been able to but reminiscing with Nat had brought some new memories to the surface, not all of them pleasant. Nightmares plagued him and he woke up screaming, tears streaming down his face as he fought to shake the images from his head. It took him several minutes to come out of it and realize he wasn't alone. Clint was there, wrapping him in a heavy, weighted blanket. 

"I've got you, Buck. You're okay now."

Clint looked worried and sleep-deprived, but in that moment he was the only thing Bucky wanted to see. He leaned into him, burrowing into both the blanket and Clint's warmth. He shivered for too long, unable to shake the feeling of going into cryo. Clint asked him a question, but he didn't quite hear it, just nodded. He trusted Clint, and Clint knew how to help him after episodes like this. He felt him shift, then heard him make a quick call, but then he was right back with him. It was only a couple minutes later when he heard the door open, and then there was another warm body on his other side. Thor. They helped him to the couch, settling him between them while they pulled three more blankets on top of them. He didn't fight them, didn't insist he was fine when he wasn't, he just let them care for him. Once he stopped shivering they all relaxed some, and Bucky peeked up from beneath the blankets. 

"How'd you get in?" Bucky asked, his voice hoarse from his screaming. He was glad they were there, but he was worried about a potential security breach. 

"J tried to wake you with some sounds and lights, but he couldn't. I guess he was worried, so he woke me and opened your door for me. I called Thor when I couldn't get you warm. Is that okay going forward?"

Bucky nodded and nuzzled against Clint, then felt Thor's solid frame against his back. It was strangely comforting for him, being squished between them, and his heart did that funny little flip it did sometimes when he was with the two of them. 

"Thank you. It's hard sometimes…my mind...I can't trust it."

"I know, Buck, and I understand what that's like." Clint pushed Bucky's hair out of his eyes and nodded at Thor, who immediately began running his hands through the long, brunet, locks. 

Bucky relaxed into the feeling of strong hands against his scalp and Clint's arms holding him against a broad chest. He melted into Clint and his warmth, Thor's hands settling into a comforting rhythm in his hair. Bucky wondered if he was braiding it again, secretly hoping he was. Eventually he was lulled back to sleep. The weight of the blanket, Clint, and Thor kept the nightmares at bay. It also served as fodder for an altogether different kind of dream. 

Thor's hands went from braiding to pulling, the two men both attacking his neck with kisses from two different angles. He was helplessly stuck between them, and instead of triggering a panic attack, it grounded him in a way nothing else ever had. He woke panting and achingly hard, his hips jerking against a sleeping Clint. A beautiful, flushed, very hard, sleeping Clint. Bucky's cheeks went red, and he pulled himself away immediately, careful not to wake Clint or Thor as he fled to the bathroom and locked the door. 

He half-heartedly tried to will his erection away, but his mind was still replaying the dream on loop. With his bottom caught between his teeth, he ran his flesh hand over the braids, twisted them around his fingers, and gave an experimental tug. "Fuck." He did it again, this time sliding his metal hand into his sweatpants. Once he had his cock in hand, he squeezed while he pulled his hair harder. It didn't take long before he found a quick rhythm, imagining Thor behind him and Clint in front of him, both men showering him with the sort of touch he'd been starved of for far too long. It was everything he needed, and at the same time not nearly enough. When he came, it was with a choked off sob and tears on his cheeks.


	3. Winterhawk Bingo Square O1 - Braids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is not your first time braiding." Thor's eyes were alight with something Bucky couldn't place.
> 
> He shook his head. "I had a sister before the war. Becca. She was a bigger pain in the ass than even Steve was back then. I used to braid her hair before bed." Bucky smiled sadly. He hadn't thought about Becca in a while. He wished he could have seen her again. He was sure she would have a mouthful to say about being older than him now.
> 
> "You are quite good at it. With a little practice, you could do something like this."
> 
> Bucky shivered when Thor ran his hand over his braids, his fingertips brushing against the back of his neck. 
> 
> "Will you teach me?"

If Clint and Thor were disappointed that Bucky once again left before they woke, neither of them let on. Thor greeted him warmly at breakfast, as did Clint after he downed an entire pot of coffee. Bucky tried not to let his embarrassment over the night before show, but he was so afraid that somehow they'd just know. It was silly, he knew that, but he wasn't sure if what he was feeling was okay. He definitely felt something for both of them, and while no one ever brought it up, it was pretty clear to Bucky that they were very much involved with each other. 

"Nice braids," Natahsa gave him a knowing grin as she spoke in Russian, settling herself on the floor to lean back against his legs. "Did Thor do them?"

"Da." He nodded, looking around for any indication anyone in the common area understood them. "Last night."

She raised an eyebrow at that and Bucky scowled in return, fighting down the warmth on his cheeks. "Stop, I know that look, Natashenka." 

He was glad to have this with her again. It was as easy between them as ever, and he could let his guard down with her. He carded his fingers through his hair and wondered if he could re-teach himself to braid it. He used to braid Becca's hair, and he thought he remembered braiding Nat's on an op or two. Natasha just rolled her eyes, but let him be. It felt nice, and it gave him something tactile to do. He managed a basic braid, but didn't have a hair tie besides the one in his own hair, so he combed hers out and did it again. His third time through, Thor sat beside him to watch. 

"This is not your first time braiding." Thor's eyes were alight with something Bucky couldn't place.

He shook his head. "I had a sister before the war. Becca. She was a bigger pain in the ass than even Steve was back then. I used to braid her hair before bed." Bucky smiled sadly. He hadn't thought about Becca in a while. He wished he could have seen her again. He was sure she would have a mouthful to say about being older than him now.

"You are quite good at it. With a little practice, you could do something like this."

Bucky shivered when Thor ran his hand over his braids, his fingertips brushing against the back of his neck. 

"Will you teach me?" He looked up at Thor and Natasha huffed like she was put-out, but she smiled to herself when Thor agreed. The three of them stayed there until Bucky's flesh fingers were tired and Natasha's hair was braided almost the same as Bucky's. 

"Very well done," Thor said a little louder than was necessary, drawing Clint's attention. 

"That's real nice, Bucky. You did such a good job." Clint patted his back and let his hand stay there, inspecting Natasha's braids with his free one. "You're a natural."

Bucky ducked his head, trying to hide the blush he knew was creeping over his cheeks. That was one downfall to having his hair back in braids. He loved the way they looked and how much attention Thor paid as he did them, but his hair helped him hide his emotions. He could let it fall into his face and no one would see how Clint's simple praise affected him. Before he got too lost in his head, he felt calloused fingers on his chin, turning his head back to face Clint.

"Hey, you don't need to hide. You did so good. Look how pretty Nat's hair is."

But he couldn't look at Natasha. When he looked up at Clint, almost everyone else faded to background noise. Clint's smile made him warm all over, and when his tongue darted out to wet his lips, Bucky's eyes followed. He didn't realize he was leaning in closer until he felt Thor's hand on his back, warm and gentle instead of pulling him away from Clint like he had every right to do. If he didn't know better, it almost felt encouraging. Fuck. He couldn't do that to him. To them. They were obviously together and Bucky wasn't trying to steal another man's fella. 

"I'm sorry." He stood abruptly, apologizing first to Clint and then to Thor as he hurried from the room. "Sorry." He almost made it to his room before Natasha caught up with him.

"You should tell them, Yasha."

Bucky clenched his jaw and shook his head. He wouldn't be the one to mess up a good thing, even at the expense of his own happiness. Hell, he'd even move out if he needed to. 

"Look at me," she sighed then spoke again, firm and direct. "I can see it when you're with them. They're good for you, and I suspect you'd be good for them too."

"Natashenka...I can't. It's...I just can't." 

He didn't know when or if he would ever be ready for anything more than what he had. He knew he wanted to be, but every day was still an internal battle. A fight against his own mind to find himself. Not to mention Thor and Clint were perfectly good before he showed up, and he already felt like he was intruding. Then again, sometimes he also felt like they wanted him to intrude. He couldn't count the number of lingering touches and soft glances the three of them had shared. 

Bucky stayed in his room for the rest of the day and the next, trying to sort out exactly what he was feeling, and what that meant. He wandered out to the common area around two that morning, having tossed and turned for the last hour. He poked around the kitchen and fixed himself a cup of chamomile and mint tea. His mind was still working overtime, thinking about what Natasha said and what he felt. He thought about how much Clint and Thor just accepting him and including him had helped in his recovery. He replayed Clint's words from a while back in his mind. _I want you to stop feeling guilty for wanting things._ Except he didn't know how to stop feeling guilty about wanting this. 

He finished the tea and walked the halls aimlessly, or at least he thought so. When he stopped, Bucky was standing in front of Clint's door. _Huh._ He took a deep breath and held it as he knocked on the door. He didn't exhale until the door opened and he was ushered in by a sleep-soft Thor. His hair was tousled and his face was creased from where he'd been sleeping, and he looked so warm that Bucky wanted to wrapped up in him. He followed him to the bedroom where Clint was just sitting up. He made grabby hands at both of them, and patted the mattress until Bucky was tucked securely between them.

"Y'gonna stay this time, Buck?" 

Clint's eyes were already drifting closed again and Bucky could feel Thor's breath between his shoulder blades. Arms and legs were all tangled together, and he felt safer than he's felt for as long as he can remember. Settled. Content. Maybe even happy. He drifted off with chapped lips pressed against his forehead, and for once, a clear mind.

"Yeah, I think I will."


End file.
